Origins
by Jenni N
Summary: Every hero has a story.
1. Lann's Story

Lann was a happy and healthy boy, wild and energetic. His often spent his afternoons with the village boys, despite the fact they were older than him by a few years, running through the streets with branches in hand that they felled from hanging on the trees from the outskirts of town. They would march through the streets, protecting the adults from invisible Fomors. Often times, they were rewarded handsomely with apple juice from the old woman who lived by the orchards and occasionally, one of the boys' mother would invite them for cookies and sweets.

At the end of the day, the boys would return home with a full stomach, pleased with their hard work, although Lann wasn't quite through. Unlike the village boys who retired their branches, Lann would race home with his still in hand and retell his day's adventure to his father, the lone blacksmith of the village. His father would listen intently while working on one of the many weapons stored in his workshop and Lann was satisfied by his father's praise.

After the storytelling, Lann would watch his father pour his love and devotion into the weapons. His dedication was admirable to Lann, and whenever Lann was to handle one of his father's weapons, he'd handle them with the utmost care, not wanting to accidentally break one and also break his father's heart. Lann spent his early childhood like this, playing with the village boys, study what his schoolteacher gave him and his classmates, help his mother tidy up the house, watching his father work well into the night until his eyelids grew heavy.

His familiarity with weaponry benefited him, and by the time he was nine, he was unusually gifted with a sword, although his mastery of the shield was poor.

"Bah!" his father scoffed when his mother questioned their son's ability. "Let the boy do as he pleases. Every warrior is different, dear. He will find a style to his liking. This is how a warrior is distinguished; style. It's all about the style."

It was out of luck that Lann discovered his fondness for dual-wielding. His father jokingly asked whether or not a shield in his left hand was more comfortable than, say, another sword.

"By Goddess..." his father breathed when the ten year old Lann sliced through a scarecrow with relative ease. The two swords in his hands sliced through the cloth and straw in harmony; neither fought the other's path but rather, worked together. "You have natural talent at this, my boy."

His mother was also impressed by her son's newfound talent. "But isn't it a slight disadvantage," she said one day after Lann got caught off guard by his father's lunge, "to give up defense for more offense? Defense is important as well, is it not? What can he do to make up for it?"

And that was when Lann found himself training his speed in order to dodge attacks more efficiently.

Lann was able to slip away from an opponent's range and slip back before the opponent could pull back to attack again and deal a fury of blows. Of course, his opponent had always been his father whom he had sparred with for years so his blows never landed, but nevertheless his father's eyes shone proudly.

"Father," Lann said one day after sparring.

"Hm? What is it?"

"Am I ready to fight Fomors?"

His father's face darkened for a second but Lann didn't catch it. His father's face brightened again and he chuckled. "You're still young, son, but I promise you that if you keep up this training, you'll be able to defend the village."

Lann's eyes shone a little when he shyly asked, "Could I even join the Royal Army?"

His father grinned down at him. "You know what? Your probably could. You very well could. Is that your goal, Lann? To join the Royal Army?"

Lann considered this for a moment as the two walked back to the house where a hot dinner was waiting for them in the fragrant kitchen. It wasn't until they reached their street when Lann said, "I don't know, father. But I do know that I want to fight to protect people."

His father's hand ruffled Lann's brown messy hair warmly. "That's my boy," Lann heard him say.

Lann's mother was waiting for them at the gate. Lann ran up ahead and greeted his mother warmly. "Guess what, mother!" Lann exclaimed excitedly after he received a tight hug and a couple of pecks on the forehead.

"What is it, son?" she asked, smiling.

"I hit father today. At last, I finally got him!"

Lann didn't mention that he had stumbled on his footwork and performed an awkward lunge, which was difficult to read. It was chance that he managed to his his father square in the chest, but it was still a hit.

"Oh did you now? With your strength, you could have killed our old man!" Lann's mother exclaimed playfully, her eyes flickering up to meet her husbands'. They shared a secret smile while Lann peered behind his mother's figure.

"Is dinner ready yet?" he asked as the three entered the house.

"Of course, Lann. How does chicken soup sound?" his mother asked. "Ah, but you must go and wash yourself. You're covered with sweat and those kisses I gave you tasted salty, dear."

Lann rubbed his forehead gingerly. "Maybe you should start blowing them instead?"

"It just isn't the same, Lann," his mother sighed, ushering him upstairs. "Now go on, change into clean clothes."

It never occurred to Lann just how precious the moment was until he started his descent back downstairs. He never knew that those few minutes he spent with both of his parents were the last; if he had known, perhaps it would have been different.

He had one foot set on the second to top step of the stairs when a shattering noise halted him. A scream followed it and his heart leapt. "Mother?" he whispered.

The scream was cut short. A furious shout followed the brief silence and a thunderous crash echoed in the house. It came from the kitchen.

"Father?" Lann called, thundering down the stairs. "Mother? Father? What happened?"

"No!" his father's voice yelled from the kitchen. Lann stopped, paralyzed into place. "Hide! Don't come any closer!"

Was that directed to him? Lann didn't know, but he couldn't move. He didn't know what to do. A low, threatening growl came from the same direction as his father's voice and Lann's stomach dropped and fear overwhelmed him.

It was a Fomor.

A dull thump followed the growl and a gruesome squishing sound sent shudders down Lann's back. A body hit the floor, but Lann didn't know whose. Should he dare go find out?

Step by step, he quietly hopped down onto the ground and crept closer to the kitchen, peering inside. His mother's body, thrown over the split table, was slice open from the throat to the lower abdomen, crimson blood staining her torn clothes and flesh. His father's body was slumped against the wall, his head crushed with glass shards sticking out of his face.

Intense nausea took over Lann and he backed out of the kitchen to regurgitate in the hallway. His body shook and he felt himself go cold. His head spun and his insides seemed to pour out of him as he retched. What sorrow did he feel? It was indescribable; he had never felt such a pain before. His tears blinded him and he didn't know whether or not they were tears of agony from his parents' death or from the violent vomiting.

Lann stumbled back into the kitchen and fell to his knees, wiping his lips and chin with his tear-soaked sleeve. Slow, heavy footsteps brought his attention up and he found himself staring into the black eyes of the Fomor that killed his parents. It was a Gnoll; Lann had heard enough descriptions to recognize it. Its dark brown, matted fur, yellowed fangs dripping with saliva, and long, blackened claws screamed out to him, yes! I am a Gnoll! Its eyes gleamed as if saying that yes, I have killed your parents. What will you do about it? You are only a mere child.

Another unfamiliar feeling piqued in Lann. It didn't feel light. It was rather heavy and foreboding. It made him feel vengeful, bloodthirsty, and merciless. Rage built up on the inside and Lann, grabbing one of the glass shards surrounding his father's body, leapt up and blindly stabbed the monster.

Its attacks were slow, and Lann was able to sidestep many attacks and jump back in, screaming and lunging and kicking. Anything it took to harm the Fomor, Lann did it. At one point, he disarmed the Fomor and he found himself on top of the already lifeless Gnoll, puncturing its chest repeatedly. His screams transformed into choked sobs and his hands were bloodied with the Gnoll's blood and his own since he had cut his palm open with the glass shard long ago.

He didn't stop until one of the men from the village found him. "Lann, Lann!" the man called, rushing towards the boy. The man took the glass shard away from him and examined his hands. Then he examined the bodies of his parents with a grim face.

"Erik, George! Anyone! We have two more dead!" the man called behind his back.

Lann remembered there were several more village men bursting in through the door, taking a wild gander at the kitchen and gaping at Lann in shock. What happened next was blurry. The majority of the village was destroyed; some of his friends lived, others had died or went missing. Of the hundred people the town had once housed, only a mere thirty-two lived.

Lann had been treated and sent to live with the old woman by the orchards with the remainder of his friends. They had heard what had happened to him and were sympathetic to him. They tried hard to cheer him up but when nothing worked, they ceased their efforts and merely watched him in pity as Lann trudged around with a hopeless look in his eyes.

"Lann, dearie, you must eat. You haven't eaten yesterday or the day before," the old woman said to him at the table in the morning. The other boys and girls were chewing on their buttered bread, watching.

"I'm not hungry," Lann said dully.

"Nonsense," the old woman said gently, "you must be starving. Two day, Lann. You haven't touched your food in two days."

"I'm not hungry."

"Lann..."

"Sorry. I'm going for a walk."

Lann never returned.

On his walk, he noticed some of the surviving village men talk to a group of four mercenaries, all of whom Lann thought looked strong. He climbed into a tree and watched from above, waiting. He wasn't sure what he was waiting for, but he stayed there and waited for something to happen.

One of the mercenaries noticed him and nudged the others. The village men exchanged looks before noticing the boy.

"Oh, him. Yes, that's the one," one of the men said.

"He has the looks of one," a mercenary admitted.

Lann narrowed his eyes. They were talking about him. How strange.

"He's young though," another mercenary said slowly.

"But he has already killed a Gnoll," another village man said, "and with a shard of glass."

"But his emotions had taken him over," the third mercenary said casually. "Anyone can do anything when they have the mindset. If placed out there without a personal reason to fight, will he still be alive?"

"That boy has trained under his father ever since he was five," the second village man insisted. "Surely you can take him in. Train him a little more and you'll have yourselves a fine mercenary."

"He's still a child," the fourth and last mercenary said flatly. "If we take him in, how can we train him? We all have our jobs to do still and some of us don't have the free time to train the boy. And it's not like the Crimson Blades have a youth training group."

"Then make one."

"It's not that simple."

"Surely there must be at least _one_ mercenary willing to train him," the first village man said, frustrated.

The four mercenaries exchanged looks. Their eyes flickered up to Lann, who watched them intently. Suddenly, the first one laughed and said, "Alright, fine. I'll take the boy to the captain and we'll see what we can do. We'll send word your way if he accepts him and we'll keep you updated on his progress. How's that?"

The village men were satisfied and Lann figured that the moment to come down was then. The mercenaries patted his back when he approached but he shrugged them off, giving them a cold look.

"Aye, he's got the killing intent," one of the mercenaries said.

"Is that good?" a village man asked nervously.

"Depends," one of the mercenaries said. "It depends on who he aims it to. What is your name, son?"

"Don't call me 'son'."

"Fine. What's your name, boy?"

"Lann."

"Alright then Lann, do you know how to use a sword?"

The village men laughed but they quieted down under the looks of the mercenary who spoke. "My apologies," a village man said, "but like I said, this boy has been trained since he was five. His father's a master blacksmith. It's natural for him to use a sword. Both of them, actually."

"Both of them?" The mercenaries seemed interested in that fact.

"He doesn't like shields, oddly enough. Never cold use them. Instead, he uses another sword. Dual-wielding, as his father calls it. He makes up his defense for his speed, ain't that right, Lann?"

Lann nodded.

The mercenaries cocked their heads at him, as if they saw him in a new light. "Oh, this is interesting indeed...I'll assume you heard our conversation. However, we can't make you do what you don't want to do. The question is, do you want to join the Crimson Blades?"

"What is it?"

"It's a mercenary located next to Rocheste. Not exactly on par with the Royal Army, but we occasionally have some exceptionally strong people. How about it? Would you like to grow up into the mercenary?"

Lann glanced back up at the village men, who watched him carefully. Then he returned his gaze to the mercenaries and said, "I don't have any other option. I can't stay here. I'm going."

The decision was final and Lann left with the mercenaries right then and there. He only said farewell to the village men who were present but they told him that they would pass on his good byes to the others.

The mercenaries led him to their horses that they tied up by a small creek a little walk away and he ended up riding with the first mercenary, who was a tall, strong man with a fair complexion and steady arms. Lann noticed there was some arrogance in the man but he seemed well-intened, even though certain words left his lips unfiltered, as told by the others of his party. He led the group, the others following behind, and the five sped their horses up to a gallop across the land until they reached Colhen in the evening.

It was tiny, barely deserving the name of a town. Lann was told that the town he came from was small, but he decided that Colhen was even smaller, if it was even possible.

"Don't be fooled, little boy," the mercenary who he was riding with said. "Colhen houses hundreds of mercs. Unbelievable, yeah, but most mercs go on missions that takes days so they end up camping somewhere while those not on duty stay here. Sometimes, mercs go to Rocheste and stay there and then come back here for work. Lucky bastards..."

The Mercenary Outpost was bustling with people coming in and out in groups or threes and fours. Many eyes fell upon Lann and Lann had a feeling that it had been a while since many of them had seen a child.

Or maybe not. Lann noticed a group of children sitting in the corner of the outpost. There were four of them, two boys and two girls. One of the boys was athletic and well-built and the other had an oversized helmet on so Lann couldn't make out his facial features. The two girls giggled together for no apparent reason; one had long blonde hair and the other had dark brown hair. They didn't seem to notice him yet.

"Oh? Who's this?" a man asked when the four mercs brought Lann up to the table.

"This is the boy the men from the village up in the northwest mentioned. They say that he's talented and that maybe we'd have use for him," the fourth mercenary explained.

"Is that so?"

The captain examined Lann for a moment. Lann felt the urge to glare up at him. He didn't like to be looked down on.

"He's young," the third mercenary said, "but he might have potential. Maybe we really _should_ start training youths. Those who start training early might have a better chance of learning advanced techniques at our age."

The captain frowned. "No...no, we don't have time for that, nor do we have the material."

"What?" the second mercenary exclaimed.

"But captain!" the fourth protested.

"No buts," the captain barked. His white mustache twitched in annoyance and he glanced back down at Lann. "Maybe in a few more years, I'll let him in, but for now, we haven't the time. Send him away."

"Away to where?" the third mercenary asked, sounding troubled. "His hometown was destroyed, he's got no family, and we can't send him back to where we got him. We said we'd take him under our wing and it will ruin our honor to take him back before a full day has passed."

"Does it look like that's my problem?" the captain asked coldly.

The third mercenary grew silent. The captain harrumphed.

"Yeah, yeah, we'll take 'im away," the first mercenary grumbled. He took Lann's arm and jerked him away. Lann's eyes fell on the four children in the corner and they stared back at him. For some odd reason, he felt his face flush and his eyes adverted from their gaze and glared at the aged captain.

"That old bastard," the mercenary said when the five left the outpost. "What does he know? Damn."

The other three dispersed, muttering how they were going to the inn to rest. The one he rode with to Colhen remained. "Tell you what, Lann. Why don't you stay here? Sure you won't be a merc, but whenever I find the time to train you, I'll train you. Get yourself familiar to the system here so that way, when you do become a merc, you won't be such a rookie."

Lann nodded.

The mercenary smirked at him and patted his back. "Well then, welcome to Colhen. I never introduced myself properly, have I now? The name's Gallagher. No stupid nicknames, so don't even bother. Let me tell you something here, okay? If anyone messes with you, come to me. I'll make sure I'll bust their brains out, okay? And if that coward of a captain ever gives you any lip, tell me. The man's old. It's about time we find a new captain anyway."

Lann wasn't sure what to make of it, but he nodded for his sake. He certainly didn't want to anger Gallagher.

Gallagher beckoned for Lann to follow him to the inn located in the middle of Colhen. "Right then. Don't worry, boy. Uncle Gallagher will make you into a warrior. Just you watch. Five years from now, you're going to be the boy wonder with the two swords, eh? How's that? Of course, you can't beat _me_. But hey, that doesn't mean you can't beat anyone else. Hmm...maybe I can gamble a bit. Have you ever dueled? I bet that you can take one some people right now. I'd win money..."

Lann followed Gallagher closely from behind. Though the last few days were rough and his smile seemed to vanished, he could feel his lips twitch up in a tiny grin in response to Gallagher's rambling.

The two entered the warmth of the inn and Lann took in a big breath. It smelled fragrant from the food cooking inside. It smelled just like chicken soup.


	2. Fiona's Story

Fiona was the kind of girl who all her friends went to if they needed advice. She found it odd that her friends found her seriousness relieving in a time of crisis but then again, it wasn't that strange. The girls of her village rarely ever knew when to be serious; they liked to shriek and talk and giggle. Fiona wasn't that kind of girl. She was the one who noticed the small details and the one with the most reason. She was the reliable one, the one who constantly reminded them of the homework their teacher assigned them and she was the one who kept them on track.

Even the boys liked her; unlike the other girls who they found 'loud' and 'annoying', she was the one they could take seriously, although her silence sometimes concerned them.

"You don't talk a lot, do you?" they said to her one day after school. "You only talk when someone talks to you. You never start a conversation. Why don't you try it, for once?"

Fiona gave them a weary look. They sighed. "Okay, okay, never mind."

Truth be told, Fiona only felt comfortable speaking at home, with her mother and her father. She also felt very comfortable with the stray cat that lingered outside her bedroom window at night. In fact, the cat was probably the being that she spoke to the most, seeing that the cat couldn't outwardly express itself. Because of this, Fiona found it relieving knowing that her secrets and inner thoughts couldn't be passed along to others from the cat.

Many times, late at night when her parents were asleep, she would slip out of her bed, pull up a chair and open the window and look for the bright white cat. Its fur would be illuminated in the brilliance of the moon, making it difficult to miss. Fiona had become so accustomed to the cat that she only had to wait three minutes maximum before it showed up.

The snowy cat would leap onto the windowsill, paw at the girl, and sit, grooming itself as Fiona whispered to it.

"Father and the other men found a Fomor today," Fiona whispered one day, watching the cat stretch. "It was dead though, but I heard father say to mother that it died recently. Mother said that she's glad father taught me how to protect myself. But..."

Fiona lifted her left arm for the cat to see. The cat's light blue eyes flickered as it spotted the dark bruise on her fair skin. "Father hits hard," Fiona whispered solemnly. "I know he didn't mean it, but he looks like he's getting desperate for me to learn quicker. Am I not good enough? Am I a disappointment?"

Silence. The cat sat straight up and pawed at an imaginary strand of yarn. Fiona leaned over and reached for the ball of yarn underneath her chair and dangled a strand for the cat to play with.

"Mother says that I'm a good fighter. For a girl, that is. Father says so too but...I don't feel like I'm good. I don't feel strong. Father is training me longer and longer every day. Today, he helped me improve my kicks. I broke a pot today. Father was so happy so I didn't tell him that my leg hurt. It still does, but if father is happy, I don't care."

Fiona shifted in her seat. The cat stopped playing with the yarn and examined her carefully. Fiona reached out to pet the cat but the cat flinched and leapt onto the floor, exploring the room. It was the first time the cat actually came inside. Ever since Fiona spotted it three years ago when she was five, the cat had never taken the leap in.

Surprised, Fiona watched it in silence as it jumped onto her bed and walked in circles. It showed no signs of lying down so Fiona continued, "Tomorrow I will work on my defense. Father says that in order for me to survive, I have to have good defense. My arm got hurt today because the shield hit me hard when father attacked me. Mother says that he needs to get me a better fitting shield. But I don't want another shield. I like that shield. It was father's old shield."

The cat meowed quietly and, content with the softness of the bed, laid down, tail swishing passively in the air. Fiona slipped off her chair and limped to her bedside.

"I wish I was stronger," Fiona said tonelessly, slipping underneath the covers. "I sometimes wish I was a boy. Everyone says boys are stronger than girls. Do you think that's true?"

The cat lazily stared at Fiona. Fiona sighed. "I really don't want to believe it is. But maybe it doesn't have to be."

Silence. The cat's tail ceased its movements and tucked it beside its body. Fiona smiled a little but the smile faded. Her smiles rarely ever lasted for long. She slowly reached out and ran a few strands of the cat's white fur between her fingers. It was heavenly soft.

"I will be the first woman to be stronger than a boy. I will become stronger, much stronger, for father and for mother. I will fight for them. No...I will protect them," Fiona whispered. She tilted her head a little. "What do you think, Angel?"

Angel meowed and closed her eyes. Fiona followed suit and murmured, "I think so too."

Training with her father became more and more intense. Normally, Fiona would have been beaten and her mother would call for the training to stop out of fear that she was overworked. However, her father noticed a new look on his daughter's face. Determination, even a little coldness, showed her true emotions and he was pleased.

"Fiona, good, good!" her father yelled as he blocked the kicks. He was ecstatic when a kick she liked to call 'Amaranth Kick' cracked his shield.

Fiona didn't allow herself to be pleased with his praise. Her resolve was that if she let down her guard for one moment, it was all over. She couldn't let herself to be weakened by words. She couldn't.

Her wooden sword became worn over the course of three days after hours and hours of sparring. Again, this greatly satisfied her father. She overheard him relay the news to the other men and that if an invasion ever happened, she might stand a chance to survive.

"Fiona, darling, come inside. Your father is busy right now. Dinner is getting cold," her mother said gently, taking her back into the house and away from her father's conversation with the others.

Whenever she roamed the streets of the town, her friends would notice new wounds and bruises on her and asked whether or not her training was worth it. The girls would ask if having a father who was in charge of the defense of the town was good, since no other girl in town trained. The boys would be impressed and showed off their own bruises as if they were trophies.

The girls didn't find it amusing and left the boys to do as they pleased. "But Fiona, just because our fathers found a Fomor a week ago doesn't mean that they're going to attack," a girl said. "Can't you ask your father for a break? It looks painful."

Fiona shook her head. "I will become strong," she said simply, and the girls couldn't get anything else out of her.

Angel stopped by Fiona's window for several nights, never missing one. Fiona found it odd, since the cat would come by three times a week, sometimes four, and rarely five. It continued for another year, when Fiona turned nine. All this time, it came every day, pawing at the glass until Fiona came to open it.

"Angel, what are you doing here again? I'm actually tired," Fiona whispered one night, but she didn't mind. She enjoyed the cat's company.

The cat leapt onto her bed again and curled up with its tail tucked beneath its body. She watched Fiona, as if expecting her to talk.

"Today, father and the other men are worried," Fiona admitted, succumbing to Angel's long stare. "They found four dead Fomors this morning. The bodies were closer too. They don't know who killed them, but they don't even know if who killed them is human. Or maybe they do, but mother always finds me before they talk seriously and pull me away."

Angel licked her paw, as if this bit of news was inevitable.

"Do you think they'll attack?" Fiona asked the cat. "Everyone is worrying and some of my friends left town to another place. They're staying with family but there are some people who are talking about moving. Father is too stubborn to move, but mother is scared. She says she isn't but I think she's only saying that because I'm here."

Fiona fiddled with her dark hair for a while, comparing her long hair to Angel's fur. "Angel..." Fiona whispered.

The cat suddenly stood up and faced her, attentive.

"I'm scared, Angel."

Fiona held her palm out to the cat, who stared at it, as if considering it, and gave it a small lick before lowering her head to sleep.

Fiona moved her hand and kept it on Angel's head, stroking the cat as she succumbed to a deep slumber.

Her sleep was short.

Fiona awoken to screams and shouts followed by crackling and crashes from outside her window. Her eyes flickered open and she sat straight up, looking around her room. The crimson lights danced along the walls in a flaming pattern. Angel was gone from her side.

Fiona rolled out of bed and hurried to the door, feeling the wood for heat. There was nothing extremely hot and so she flung it open and scrambled out to the hallway.

The path to the front door was clear, but the path upstairs to her parents' room was blocked by fallen beams. The stairwell had collapsed.

Fiona fought her fear that began to grow deep inside of her and she dashed to the door before anything cold block her escape. The streets were filled with corpses strewn over the road, blood seeping into the dirt as fire licked up the houses in front of her.

Sparks flew into the air and small groups of people sprinted past her, not taking one second to notice her. Fiona glanced around hastily, looking for any signs of her parents. She realized that if her parents had escaped, surely they'd wake her up, right?

Something touched her feet and she jumped, only sighing to find Angel weaving in between her legs. "Angel," Fiona breathed. Angel purred and bounded down the street.

Fiona hastily followed the cat down to the end of the street. There, she found her father supporting her mother, whose face was contorted in pain and doused in tears.

"Fiona! Oh, my girl is alive! Thank Goddess!" her mother exclaimed.

"Mother!" Fiona gasped. "Father!"

Her father smiled weakly at her. There was blood running down the side of his face and soot adorned his clothes. "Your mother's ankle is sprained. We had to jump from our room."

They pulled her into a tight embrace and Fiona surprised herself by finding her eyes watering. This was a sign of weakness, so why couldn't she stop?

Fiona was shocked out of her thoughts when a harsh yowl rang in her ears. She broke out of the embrace and spun around, eyes widening when she saw a Gnoll hold Angel by the scruff of her neck. "Angel! No!" Fiona screamed. Her scream stunned her; she had never screamed, and her parents were bewildered.

"Angel! Mother, father, Angel's-" Fiona gasped, frozen in place. She stood there, on the other side of the road while Angel hissed at the Gnoll holding her.

The Gnoll swung the cat around wildly and Fiona knew by the look in Angel's eyes that it hurt her. But what could Fiona do at that point? She was, after all, a child.

"Fiona, DOWN!"

Fiona was pushed with such force that she stumbled and hit the ground hard. Pain shot through her legs and tears of pain blurred her vision. It didn't take long to figure out that another Gnoll had attacked her parents. It scared her; her mother could not walk and her father was empty-handed.

On the other side, the Gnoll raised Angel and Fiona found herself watching. She wailed as the Gnoll slammed Angel against the burning wall of the house. She heard the cat's bones break; there was now blood splattered on the wall and the smell of burning fur choked Fiona.

Shaking, Fiona gasped for air, but the air was filled with the putrid smell of dead, burning bodies. There was nothing she could do to save Angel now; she didn't even have much time to mourn her beloved friend. The Gnoll flung what remained of the cat into the fire and started towards her.

Behind her she heard her mother scream and Fiona glanced back. Her mother was hidden, away from the fight between her father and, now, two Gnolls. He was still weaponless, not to mention injured, but he held his ground.

Fiona's mother pointed at the Gnoll approaching Fiona and uttered a long, melancholy wail.

The wail broke Fiona's heart. She wished she would never hear her mother cry. It was too painful.

"Fiona," her father barked, "run! Run now!"

"Father, I must-"

"NOW!"

Fiona gritted her teeth. Her tears ran down her cheek but she did not run. Instead, she threw all her rationality away and rammed into the Gnoll head-on. The Gnoll took a step back, but that was all. Furious at the Fomor, Fiona couldn't help but let her rage and anger out and she yanked at the Gnoll's fur to serve as a distraction.

Gnolls weren't the brightest Fomors and the Gnoll she fought snarled and growled at her. It chilled her spine and sapped away much of her courage.

But she couldn't give up.

She took this moment to disarm the Gnoll and grabbed its weapon, which was a crude club with spike protruding out from the top. She had no shield, but she didn't care.

With a weapon in hand, she felt her rage return and all past lessons and exercise drills abandoned her. She violently hacked at the Fomor's head until a fountain of blood spurted from it. The Gnoll was kicked in the abdomen and Fiona stomped furiously until she could hear its bones break. Tears welled up again and she stomped and swung blindly as she mourned for Angel.

This continued for several minutes. Fiona felt her foot break through the skin and she found it stuck inside the Gnoll's body. Warm, flowing blood gushed out and bathed her feet with scarlet. The Fomor was dead long ago, but she didn't care.

When she finally calmed down, her tears were dry and her face became hardened to stone. She had shown so much weakness, she knew that her father would have been ashamed.

"Father..." she said quietly, turning around.

Fiona already knew that her father had killed the two Gnolls with his bare hands. However, the price for it wasn't worth it. He had lethal wounds, but he held on long enough to watch Fiona finish her first real fight. Before he collapsed, he smiled at her and said, "You've become truly strong, Fiona." And then he was gone.

Her mother's hiding spot had collapsed when he had fought off the two Gnolls and she was crushed underneath the burning rubble. Fiona knew this as well, and yet she had already accepted it. The pain lingered, but Fiona hardened herself within minutes so that she cold not feel the same pain again and again. She knew she would, and she found it unfair that a nine-year old must endure it.

But that night, she learned that life was never fair.

Her town somehow fought off the Fomors and many survived. However, the majority of the town burned up and the majority of the inhabitants that survived moved away. Some stayed behind to clean, and Fiona stayed with them until she could travel.

She waited for several more days, waiting for the right time to slip out of the town. She had snuck food and water into a bag and left the town in the middle of the night.

The moon shone brilliantly, and it made her feel empty, knowing that her companion was no longer there. However, she would continue on, telling herself she must stay strong. Fiona found herself heading north and she followed whatever path she found. Sometimes, she'd find men and women on the way and they'd offer her a ride, but she declined.

"If I walk, it will make me stronger," she explained to them.

Troubled, they would offer her food and she would accept it. She was not stupid; in order to survive, she needed to keep her food supply up.

Eventually, after two weeks of walking north, she decided to take a day off and rest by a river. The day was cool and the clouds provided shade from the sun, so her skin stayed relatively fair. There were still traces of bruises from her spars with her father and she felt her eyes sting again.

"No," she told herself, wiping them dry with the back of her hand. "I mustn't cry."

She would distract herself by training. Along with food, she snuck out a shield and a sword. The sword was real; it wasn't wooden like the one she used for practice. It was heavy though, and she trained herself to carry heavier things so that she was able to wield the sword with ease.

Later in the afternoon, she heard someone in the river, splashing around. Alarmed, Fiona hastily crouched behind a boulder and peered around to see who was with her.

A young man with a haughty posture and a boy roughly around her age were standing knee deep in the river. The boy held a spear in hand, watching the river intently while the young man watched the boy.

Minutes passed in total silence and then, suddenly, the boy stabbed the water at a slim shadow. He was rewarded with nothing.

"No, no, faster. Goddess, and you're supposed to be speedy? It's been two weeks since the villagers told me and the others that you're fast, Lann. And what have you proven? Nothing. Again."

The boy, Lann, sighed but did as he was told. Five minutes passed and he stabbed at the water. Agian, the spear came back out empty-handed.

"No, you just don't get it, do you?" the young man growled. He threw up his hands and stepped out of the river. "Now you stay here until you catch one fish. I'll be back by dusk but if you still don't get one by then, I'm making you do fifty push-ups, no exceptions!"

The young man stepped onto land and rolled down his pants before slipping on his shoes. He left the river and disappeared through the trees, leaving Lann alone in the river with a sour expression.

Curious, Fiona approached quietly, finding interest in what Lann was doing. The running water of the river was loud enough to cover her footsteps and she pulled herself up into a tree overlooking the river and Lann.

"Goddess," Lann groaned, "how am I supposed to do this?"

Fiona spent the next hour observing Lann's posture and technique. After that hour and he still couldn't get it, she became slightly annoyed that he wasn't doing anything to change his stance. Then again, she had never speared fish before so she couldn't really say anything about it.

"Does it have to be speared?" she heard herself ask.

Lann jumped and glanced around wildly. He spotted her in the trees and his alarm faded. "Oh...hello there."

Fiona nodded her acknowledgment.

Lann frowned and said, "Why don't you come down? I'm Lann. And you are?"

Fiona didn't move at all, but she replied back, "I'm Fiona."

"Nice to meet you, Fiona," Lann said. Then he heaved a sigh and climbed back onto land. "So how long have you been watching?"

"A little over an hour," she said tonelessly.

Lann tilted his head at the lack of emotion in her voice but he continued on casually, "Have you really? Then you got any pointers? Gallagher's trying to see if I can spear fish. He doesn't want to take me out into the open water to fish because it's dangerous. Apparently, a lot of duels take place there and they might accidentally knock me overboard."

Lann shook his head and added under his breath, "But spearing fish takes too long."

Fiona wondered if continuing the conversation meant that he would assume they'd become friends. She didn't want to make friends; she didn't want to get hurt nor did she want anyone else to. "Sorry, but I can't," she said.

"Huh? Can't what?"

"Talk to you."

Lann was bewildered. "Why?"

"Because I might befriend you and if I do and something bad happens, I'll get hurt or you'll get hurt," Fiona explained as indifferently as she could. "I don't want anyone to get hurt."

Lann considered this for a moment. Then he beckoned for her to come down and this time, she did. She planned on leaving the moment she came down but Lann caught her arm and said, "As long as there are humans and Fomors in this world, everyone will get hurt. You can't save everyone, Fiona. Isn't it better to have and lose than to never have at all? My father used to tell me that and...my father..."

Fiona recognized the tone Lann had and she softened. "You got hurt too..." she whispered.

Lann blinked and forced a laugh. "Ah, yeah. I'm recovering. It's still painful, but pain makes you stronger, right?"

Fiona was surprised at this. "It does?"

"Yeah. Pain is, well, painful. But if you can recover, you can overcome it. That's because you're getting stronger.," Lann said slowly. "My father said that too."

Fiona was silent. She ran this new information over and she nodded. "I see...thank you, Lann. I suppose you're right. But still..."

"Hey, don't worry about it. If you become friends with me, you'll be fine," Lann said. "I won't die so easily, and it looks like you won't either." He nodded at the heavy sword hanging from Fiona's wasit. "If you can climb and carry that thing, you're strong."

"But am I strong enough?" Fiona asked quietly.

Lann frowned for a moment, then he added, "Were you here to see that man I was with?"

Fiona nodded.

"His name is Gallagher. He took me in and is training me so that one day, I'll be in the Crimson Blades. It's a mercenary, so they're like the Royal Army, but smaller. Why don't you join me? I think he'll be happy to have another person."

Gallagher wasn't exactly 'happy' at first. When he came back at dusk, he was thrilled to see four bass speared, but when he found out that Lann had help from Fiona, he yelled, "Then what's the point of this day if you had help? And who the hell is this girl?"

"She's Fiona," Lann said nervously. "I was thinking that maybe...you could train her too?"

Gallagher's nose flared. "Oi, it took me days to get captain to let me keep you. Imagine what he'll say if I take her in too. And how do you know if she has talent? So what if she can carry that sword? Carrying a sword and fighting with a sword are two completely different things, Lann."

"What can she do to prove herself?" Lann asked.

Gallagher growled, "Seriously?"

"What can I really do?" Fiona asked in an undertone.

Gallagher rubbed his chin for a moment, his eyes flickering over to Lann. "Hey boy, you looking for a practice duel?"

"Huh?"

Several minutes later, Fiona and Lann watched Gallagher draw a ring in the ground. If one could land three blows on the other, they would win. That or push the other outside the ring three times.

"With real swords?" Lann asked.

"Obviously," Gallagher said gruffly. "Now stop talking. Ready, Lann? Ready, little girl?"

Fiona gave Gallagher a quick glare before he signaled for the round to begin. Fiona took a defensive stance and analyzed Lann's attacks. He was fast, relying on his speed to zip in and out. However, he looked unsure, since Fiona was not attacking. She figured that Lann waited for an opponent to pull their arm back in after striking out to attack; he couldn't do that is she didn't attack first.

Seconds after her first analysis, Lann decided he was tired to waiting and lunged in. Fiona brought the shield over and blocked the hit. She was glad her father hit much harder than Lann; his lunge was strong, but not as strong as her father's. She took that moment to use her shield and direct Lann's sword away while she pointed the tip of her own sword at his throat.

"Point," she said.

Lann nodded at Gallagher. "See?"

"Shut up. You're not trying."

The second round ended with Lann pushing Fiona outside the ring. He was able to attack chains and chains of combinations, forcing Fiona to scoot backwards until she was out.

"Point to Lann!" Gallagher said.

But Lann didn't seem too ecstatic.

The third round, Fiona saw that Lann wasn't trying anymore. She easily knocked him to the ground and pointed the tip at his throat once more.

"Point for Fiona," Lann said.

Gallagher's face was as hard as Fiona's.

The fourth round ended up with Fiona pointing her sword at Lann again. "See? She won! That means she can train with me!" Lann said, getting back up.

But he didn't stay on his feet for long. Fiona dropped her sword and reached out to grab his collar. She sneered at him, "Are you trying to make a fool out of me?"

"What?"

"Are you going easy because I'm a girl? Is that it? Or are you taking pity on me? I don't need your pity, Lann. If you're treating me like this, forget it."

"It's not that!" Lann protested.

But Fiona wouldn't hear it. She tossed him to the ground, picked up her sword, sheathed it, and gave Gallagher a glare. "And you. He's just a kid, like me. He's had it hard, so don't hurt him. Don't give him any more stress."

Gallagher stared at her and she stared back. After what seemed like forever, he burst out laughing, clapping his hands together. Unsure of what t make of it, Fiona glanced at Lann, who was just as unsure as she.

"You know what, little girl, I like you. Forget what I said, come back with us. Who knows? You're actually an adorable looking little girl if your expression wasn't so stony," Gallagher laughed.

Before she knew it, Fiona was led by Gallagher and Lann to Colhen, a tiny little place with plenty of people running around. To her surprise, there were one or two women mercenaries hanging around, even though Gallagher had said there were none.

"I didn't say that, little girl," Gallagher rolled his eyes. "I said that there aren't very many."

"My name isn't 'little girl'. It's Fiona."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever."

Lann leaned in and whispered, "You'll get used to him eventually."

Fiona sighed. She didn't think she'd end up with mercenaries. But then again, she didn't know where she would end up. Despite her earlier resolve, she had made friends with Lann and, to her displeasure, Gallagher. He went around the Mercenary Outpost, bragging about how he'd raise the two most strongest fighters in all of the kingdom.

There were some laughter and Lann even joined in. The atmosphere was significantly different. It was light. It was warm. It reminded her of home.

Fiona scolded herself as she wiped away a few tears but she caught Lann's eyes and looked away, ashamed.

"It's okay to cry," he said softly. "Crying isn't weakness. It's a way to heal the soul."

Fiona stared at him. He smiled at her. She let out a long sigh and asked, "How do you know all of this?"

Lann laughed. "My father."

Fiona thought back to her own father. Now that she thought about it, her father had never said that crying was weak.

"I'm not crying," Fiona stated.

Lann didn't believe her. "It's okay. Remember, the strong are those who recover from pain."

Fiona stared up at the sky. It was so blue. It was so bright. The sun was warm.

"You okay now?" Lann asked.

Fiona glanced down at Lann and gave him her rare smiles. "Yeah. I'll recover."


	3. Evie's Story

Evie was known to be a bright and cheerful girl, surrounded by friends just as energetic and happy as she. Although, coming from a wealthy family, Evie had to learn how to restrain herself from unleashing too much energy in front of people. Her friends had to deal with this situation as well, and they would secretly giggle with each other in the corner table of a party, pleased that they could maintain their elegance and grace while still being themselves.

It was natural that Evie held herself with such a gentle poise and spoke with a soft voice in front of adults. And it was also natural for Evie to act like any rambunctious child with children her age without any adult supervision. She'd run around the manor on play dates, giggling and jumping around.

But like any other girl of her status, Evie was constantly put under intense magical studies, which she enjoyed the majority of the time. Her tutor was a kind young woman but she had a tendency to butt in with advice and warnings that Evie didn't think was necessary.

"Ah, careful, Evie. You don't want to spill that powder."

"I know," Evie would reply.

"Oh, and um, move slowly and carefully so you don't spill any of that liquid."

"I know," Evie would reply.

"Evie!" her tutor would gasp.

Evie would start, whipping her head around and gazing up at her tutor with wide eyes. "What? What?" she would cry.

And her tutor would point with one hand and cover her mouth with the other, stating that Evie miscalculated and that the dust was .28 grams over the limit of the current procedure.

Although the tutor meant well, Evie couldn't help but roll her eyes sometimes at the woman's quirks. But she came to appreciate her tutor so she didn't mind the constant warnings.

With Evie's lifestyle and her parents' lifestyles, it was no wonder that the family was invited to several parties and events from the other wealthy families. But often times, they rarely brought Evie and the few times they do, they used her as a doll, showing her off to their friends and then after the bragging was done, they'd leave her be to do what she wished.

It didn't bother Evie that much. Maybe it was because she was raised like that since birth but the tutor showed a motherly quality that Evie's life had lacked and wanted. It didn't take long before the two were extremely close to the point where Evie went to her first for advice.

The day Evie asked about the different fields of magic was the day she realized what she wanted to do. Her tutor had explained that research magic could be used to heal the sick; battle magic had some defensive skills and Evie figured she could defend the weak.

"Research magic requires people who have excellent intuition and patience," her tutor had said, "It is quite difficult to conduct experiments with magic and there are certain steps you must take to do so. However, there are very good benefits to this. You can learn how to make potions and strength serums. You can help the sick and heal them. It's very satisfying work."

Research magic didn't seem so bad to Evie, and after that explanation, it seemed like something Evie wouldn't mind doing since she would help people. Of course, she didn't plan on focusing whatever career she wanted on magic; it was just a handy subject to know and people would obviously be impressed by her schooling. Still, Evie didn't mind nursing the sick back to health.

"What about battle magic? What are the basics of that?" Evie had asked.

"Battle magic is magic used to, well, of course, battle with. They use offensive magic to attack and harm others. Quite gruesome, if you ask me," the tutor had said simply.

"How do they do it?"

"I don't study this sort of magic, but I _do_ know that staffs are used to channel raw power from the mind and body and the magic is then transformed to the user's free will. If you are to, say, shoot fire, your magic will have to be channeled from your body through the staff and you must turn that power into actual fire. It's a complex process for me to fully explain it to you but surely you're satisfied with that answer."

Evie _was _satisfied, and her tutor had sighed in exasperation when Evie claimed she wanted to do battle magic. She questioned her motives, and Evie's expression had become serious.

"I don't only want to learn how to fight," Evie had said earnestly, her feet dangling casually, "I want to protect the weak. Whenever I go into the marketplace with mother, there are a lot of bad people there. That's why mother always goes to the marketplace with a bodyguard.

"The bad people bully the weak, you know. It's mean. I feel bad for them. So...if I can learn how to fight with magic-because I'm not that strong to fight with a sword-"

"Your parents wouldn't allow sword fighting anyway," her tutor had interrupted gently. "That is reserved for the wealthy boys."

It was natural for wealthy boys to learn sword-fighting and the girls to learn research magic. In Evie's opinion, she didn't know why the boys had to learn how to fight but not the girls. And she didn't know why the wealthy boys learned when it was the poor that needed it most. It didn't make sense to her.

Her tutor then asked if she wanted to give up on research magic, to which Evie frowned and said otherwise. "You must focus on one field, Evie," her tutor had said.

"But why can't I do both? I can heal the sick _and_ defend the weak! Wouldn't that be amazing?"

"There's no such person who does that. It's either one or the other, Evie. You must pick one."

"Why not both?"

"Both fields of magic relies on complete and utter focus in that certain field. If you divide your focus into two for each field, then it wouldn't be as effective."

Evie restrained herself from rolling her eyes. "_As _effective...sure, okay."

It was then that Evie learned that not even her beloved tutor could satisfy her quest for strength. The few times her own friends spend the day with her, Evie would slip out her want of learning battle magic, hoping they would catch on and help her with her goal. She silently applauded one of her friends when she asked Evie if she wanted to go to a battle magic arena.

"They have an arena for that?" Evie asked incredulously.

Her friend nodded eagerly and sent a few suspicious looks around, causing Evie to do the same. When they deemed the area safe, they continued to discuss the details in hushed voices.

"But it's underground," her friend added. "That's what big brother said."

Evie didn't know what 'underground magic battles' really were at the time, and she imagined a dirt arena with magicians striking the ground with bolts. Dirt would fly up upon impact and dust clouds would obscure the participants as a defensive advantage. It sounded absolutely exciting and daring; it made the two grin with excitement.

"Is your older brother taking you to see it?" Evie asked.

"Oh, um...that's the problem. He only mentioned it after hearing news about it from his teacher but when I asked him, he wouldn't tell me."

They frowned and crossed their arms. That was problematic. Evie then asked if the brother's teacher would tell them, to which her friend shook her head. "I never see his teacher," she replied in disappointment.

"Well, Violet, go see his teacher the next time he has his lessons!" Evie insisted, to which Violet assured Evie she would try.

Evie was ecstatic a few days later when Violet visited her with information. It had came with a small price, however, because Violet had been scolded by her brother.

"It wasn't so bad, though," Violet insisted when Evie's face fell considerably. "Don't worry. It was only him. Mother and father doesn't know about it."

"That's good," Evie sighed, embracing her friend tightly. Upon releasing the hug, she added hastily, "So where's the underground magic arena?"

According to Violet, if one were to go to the west side of the city, near the slums, there was a narrow alleyway that served as the sole entrance to the hidden arena. "It looks like a normal alley," Violet had said, "so it might be hard to find at first. There, you can find the side door and they ask for some sort of secret password."

Evie frowned. "It will be hard to sneak in then," she said.

"Yes," Violet nodded, "but if you somehow get in there, that's where you can find someone to teach you battle magic."

Evie groaned and flopped down onto her four-poster bed, hugging one of the many pillows. "It sounds like a lot of work, Violet. But it's the only way I can learn. Hey!" She sprang back up, surprising Violet. "Why don't you come with me? It'll be an adventure!"

Evie felt slightly guilty into coaxing Violet into her quest but it was how Evie learned how persuasive she could be. This persuasive skill of hers helped them when it came down to the day they were to venture into the underground magic arena. Convincing her parents that she was going to spend the day at the laboratory, Evie was excused for the entire day; her magic tutor was traveling the country to check on her family, leaving Evie without lessons for a week.

"Please make sure to tell your parents that classes are canceled for the week, alright?" her tutor had said before departing.

Evie had merely smiled and said, "I promise!"

It dealt a small blow to Evie's morality, seeing that it was a false promise, but she figured that it was inevitable; lying, according to her parents, was something most people couldn't avoid. And if they did, they tended to twist the truth.

Finding the right alleyway, however, proved to be more difficult then they had imagined. Of course, they knew that it was challenging in the first place, but when they brought the subject up with the people mingling around the streets, they were usually given a strange look.

"That is no place for children," a young man said firmly.

"So you _do_ know where it is," Evie said.

The man sighed at them. "It's not like I'd tell you two anyway."

It might have been embarrassing for Evie to bribe the young man but there were many things she had to do in order to get to the arena. It seemed like the young man was flushed at the concept of accepting the bribe so at least they were both cooperating, if she could call it that.

"The alleyway is down there. If you two head in that direction, you'd see a street vendor with short blonde hair. He sells books," the young man said nervously, his eyes darting around anxiously. He refused to meet their eyes, now that their stares were intently focused on him.

The young man shifted uncomfortably for a second, clearing his throat. "If you go down the alley there-it should be on the left- there's a door. It's the only door there so it should be simple to find. But um...may I ask why you two are asking? Like I said, it's um, no place for children."

"We are members of the noble families of this city," Evie declared, showing the young man her family crest located on her bracelet. Violet did the same. "We have business there."

This information seemed to satisfy the young man, although his concern didn't fade. "But what business do children have there? Wouldn't nobles send other people rather than their own children?"

Evie and Violet exchanged glances. Personally, Evie didn't like attempting to fool clever people. But then again, how was she to know how insightful the man could be? At least, he was pretty insightful to _them_. Children were easily impressed, after all.

"Thank you for your time," Evie said hastily, curtsying to the man. She didn't want to linger any longer than they had to. She would just have to leave the man's question unanswered.

Violet followed suit before laying a gentle hand on Evie's shoulder. "Let's go then."

The man's directions were right, since it led them straight towards the book vendor. The alleyway _did_ only have a single door, although Evie frowned at it. She expected it to be grander.

Without wanting to wait any longer, Evie anxiously knocked on the door, careful to pull her sleeve over her small hand as to not dirty her skin with the filth on the surface of the door. She pulled herself back at once the moment the door cracked open.

A haggard-looking man with an unshaven face peered out of the door, his gaze floating above their heads before it shot down in confusion. "Whaddaya two girls want?" he asked roughly. "You lost or somethin'?"

Out of the corner of Evie's eyes, she noticed that Violet took a step back. There was something unappealing about the man. It could have been how his breath stank of alcohol-and the bad kind; Evie would know after years of attending parties where some adults would drink themselves foolish-. It could have been his appearance or his smell. Whichever factor made him seem unpleasant, it was strong. Evie was lost for words for a moment.

"Begone with ya," the man grunted after the silence.

Just as he was about to close the door, Evie perked and yelped, "Hey, wait!"

The man stopped. "What?"

"I need to go in there!" Evie pointed past the man. "I need to find a magic teacher."

The man scorned at them. "There are no teachers around here. Leave-"

"Then I need to find someone who can use battle magic," Evie insisted. "Please! We must go in!"

The man looked them over for a moment. Realization dawned upon him and he said, "You girls seem fairly rich. How much money are ya willing to pay to get in?"

After the exchange, the two girls noticed how light their gold pouches were afterward. They shrugged it off, hoping deep down that they didn't need to bribe any other people on their quest.

The troubling thoughts faded when they climbed up a stairwell. At first, there was nothing but stairs. However, the further they ascended, the louder faint cheers could be heard. They climbed to the point where the lighting barely provided them with enough guidance to make it to the very top. They had to grope the rest of the way and were fairly proud of themselves for not tripping.

What the arena was actually like stunned them.

The stairs led them to the top balcony of the circular arena; there was another balcony beneath them and below that, there were several tables where people could enjoy their drinks during the matches.

They arrived in the middle of a match, much to Evie's excitement. She hopped up and down with a wide grin on her face. Clapping her hands together, she glued her eyes to the ring below, leaning as far as she could across the railing in order to make out the battle.

Bursts of fire exploded from the blue-dressed participant- Evie couldn't tell if it was a man or a woman- but the damage was avoided when the gray-dressed participant coated him or herself with a protective ice diamond.

It was better than flashy lights that Evie thought. Their raw magic was truly transformed into other things, not just lights. There was fire, there were jets of water, and there were spikes of ice protruding from the ground.

This was battle magic.

The two girls raced down the stairs, oblivious to the jeering looks on the faces of some of the observers. The ground floor was crowded with adults; there were no children in sight at all. Violet's face had shown anxiety over this fact but Evie hadn't noticed at all. She was focused on the powerful-looking people.

They spotted several on the ground floor and Evie ran up to many of them in hopes of finding a tutor. It was tedious work; several laughed in her face, others shook their heads in annoyance, although there were a couple who seemed amused.

"You wanna learn battle magic?" a woman smirked.

"Yes! I really do," Evie said enthusiastically.

The woman, whose feet were kicked up onto the table, leaned back in her chair so that the front legs rose in the air. Balancing herself, she said, "You gotta be careful about it, kid. Around here, there are dangerous people. Ask the wrong people and you'll regret it. As for me, I have no right to say I'm capable of teaching."

"So you won't teach me?" Evie asked, trying not to let her disappointment spread to her face. It failed, however, and the woman ended up grinning.

"Hey, cheer up. There are some actual good guys around here. The reason why they're around here is that they can't pay off their damn debts, haha!"

Evie had no idea how that was funny in the slightest sense, but she gave a small laugh in order to humor the woman.

"There's this one guy I know. Great guy. Strong in magic and whatnot. In fact, he was here earlier today and ran off to do somethin'. Reckon he'll be back, Raymon?" the woman added behind her shoulder.

A tanned man with several scars over his face chuckled deeply. "Who knows? The man doesn't have a steady schedule. He comes and goes."

The woman chuckled and returned her gaze to Evie and Violet. "But anyway, if you happen to run into him, he doesn't look like a battle magician. He's actually small. Compared to those big guys up there?" She nodded towards the ring, where the participants were shooting blasts of energy at each other. "He's a skinny guy. Surprisingly powerful though. You'd never know."

Evie glanced at Violet excitedly. "If he comes back, then we have to see him!" Evie said. "May we wait here? I would like to watch the battle, please."

The woman raised her mug. "Pull up a few chairs. Want a drink? Nah, of course not. You're both underage anyway. A pity. Anyway, the name's Morgan. Good to meet you."

Evie and Violet ended up examining the basics and complexities of battle magic, thanks to Morgan's details of the fights. She would explain to them why one person was running towards the edge of the ring and follow that up with an explanation of how magic mines worked.

The two girls would simultaneously go, "Ohhhh..." whenever Morgan's words made sense, proven when her predictions would come true in the ring.

Eventually, Evie finally took her eyes off of the ring when the match was done. Exhilarated by the possibilities battle magic could do, she bounced in her seat and tugged at Morgan's sleeve. "Are you going to battle too?" she asked.

Morgan laughed. "Me? Nah, I'm drunk off my ass. Can't do shit."

The man behind her, Raymon, clapped a hand over her mouth and said, "These are kids here, Morgan. You can' t say those words in front of them."

"Huh?" Morgan squinted at Evie and Violet. "Oh yeah..." Then she burst out laughing, stating that they'd hear plenty of words like that in their lives. It was better to expose them to the real world sooner than later, according to Morgan. Raymon then refused to remove his hand from her mouth from that moment on.

Evie sighed and tossed her head to the side. She was surprised to find the young man she bribed earlier walking briskly through the crowd, eyes scanning the ground floor as if searching for something. Morgan then chose the time to break free of Raymon's hold and wave the man down, yelling that he was needed. The disturbance angered the people around them and Morgan merely shot them down with petty insults.

Complaints followed and Evie learned that underground magic arenas were full of short-tempered people. It was as if their fuses were barely an inch long, seeing that their 'arguments', if one could call it that, lasted barely a minute.

The two girls found themselves crouched under the table, trying to avoid the magic flown around in the air. The fight had grown and spread like fire, and it didn't take long before the entire ground floor broke out into battle. It seemed as if it would last for hours. Along the way, the table they hid under was thrown away and they huddled in the middle of the fight.

What happened next was unexpected. Violet screamed as a large fireball launched into the air towards them. Evie immediately wrapped her arms around Violet, squeezing her eyes shut. Something slammed the ground next to her but it was much too soft to be a large blazing ball of flames. And the heat didn't hit them. Evie opened her eyes, noticing a shadow over them.

The young man she had bribed stood in front of them, staff in hand. Everything was silent, which seemed out of place with the fray. But that was when Evie noticed that the fighting had ceased. Everyone had their eyes fixed on the young man.

But there was something odd about them. Evie glanced around, bewildered. They were floating in mid-air; people, chairs, tables, empty mugs and cracked glasses alike hovered several feet above the ground. Was it because of this man?

All at once, at the command of the man, everything crashed towards the ground. Dozens of grunts and gasps surrounded them, followed by thuds and bangs as the tables and chairs landed. Glass shattered when the mugs followed suit; none of the shards manged to hit Evie or Violet, seeing that the young man caught the shards before they could hit them with his magic.

Evie learned that the young man grew worried for the two and retraced his steps back to the arena, searching for them. It agonized him to no end that he gave such young children knowledge to the arena and how it made him feel incredibly guilty.

Evie was glad she had asked him to be her teacher; someone who worried that much was a good person, and she was even more ecstatic when he agreed reluctantly.

"Only because you gave me so much money," he said weakly.

"What?" Evie asked, surprised. "It was just my pocket money. Five thousand gold is nothing."

This, however, depressed the man and Morgan had laughed, reclaiming that all the good guys around the arena were there to earn money to pay off their debts.

The next few months were spent learning battle magic in secret. The young man understood the risks of Evie's requests but taught her anyway. It was through him that she learned how to shoot a bolt of green raw magic, seeing that transforming raw magic into something else was too much work for her. To her disappointment, Evie was too young and unskilled to learn how to heal people, although he promised she'd learn in time.

The training helped her develop muscle, and this was the main thing that created suspicion throughout her family and her research magic tutor. They questioned her new-found strength whenever she would carry a set of thick books or boxes.

Evie should have seen it coming. She should have seen the inevitable.

It didn't take long before her parents found out about her battle magic; it pained Evie to fight with her parents, but she couldn't see their logic. Perhaps she was biased, but she found her parents to be wrong when they stated young girls were weak. It was unhealthy for young girls. It was too much for them to handle.

"Why am I doing this?" Evie asked herself as she glanced up at the graying sky. "I've never ran away from home before..."

Though the dark clouds indicated a storm, Evie resumed walking with no intention to return home. Perhaps it wasn't the best thing, but at the moment, she was blinded by anger and frustration that running away seemed to be the only option. Now, however, she started to think back on it and was saddened at the thought it was too late. If she returned now, she'd never hear the end of it and her pride and her family's pride would suffer.

Honestly, Evie had no idea where she would go. She never knew where her battle magic teacher lived and the laboratory would be closed at the time. Perhaps she should have figured the details out before attempting to run. Should she ask to reside with a friend? Should she stay out in the streets? Perhaps there would be some kind citizens who would take her in for a while. Or, should she dare think, leave the city altogether?

"Now you're just being an idiot," Evie scolded herself. Her voice echoed and she stopped herself, suddenly aware of where she was. Whether or not she remembered the path towards the underground magic arena, that was where she just was. The idea of finding Morgan, or even her battle magic teacher, excited her.

Glancing around the streets, she found it relieving that only the book vendor was present at the time, finishing loading all of his merchandise to protect them from the incoming rain. She dashed into the alleyway and into the covert of the shadows.

It was the fault of the dark that she couldn't see the figure slumped over in the alley. Evie nearly tripped over the body when she ran. The figure grunted and she halted, taking several steps back.

"Who's there?" Evie gasped, blinking rapidly for her eyes to adjust.

"Evie?" a low voice murmured feebly.

"Morgan!" Evie knelt down beside the woman only to hesitate in growing horror when she found blood all over the woman's torso. "What happened?" Evie whispered, reaching out to feel Morgan's sweat-stained face.

"Fomors..."

"Fomors?" Evie repeated in alarm. She had heard about Fomors, although she had never seen one nor did she know what they looked like. She would sometimes hear bits and pieces about them from the adults but other than that, she didn't exactly know what to expect.

She jumped when Morgan grabbed her wrist. "Run away," she hissed. "They're still here."

"They? You mean...the Fomors?" Evie asked anxiously. The shock petrified her and she could feel her chest ache. "How many?" she asked, shaking Morgan's shoulders gently. "Morgan!"

"Doesn't matter," Morgan muttered. She took Evie's wrist and tossed it away from her face. With the same hand, she pushed at Evie's arm and urged to her leave before she gets trapped.

"What about the other magicians in the arena? They can take care of the Fomors, right?"

"Gone..."

"Gone?"

"Closed. You know how late it is, Evie? The darkness should have been a hint."

Morgan gave her a small smile but this time, Evie didn't humor her. She honestly couldn't leave Morgan there. She had to take her to a healer, seeing that she didn't have the necessary skills to heal Morgan herself. Criticizing herself at her incapability, Evie threw Morgan's arm around her small shoulders and attempted to help her up.

Morgan's body was like a rag doll, lifeless and limp. Blood dripped from Morgan's lips as she mused, "That hurts, you know...My legs are useless, Evie. They ripped them apart. In fact...this should hurt like hell, ya know? Lucky I can't feel much anymore. No offense, but you're short and my legs are dragging across the ground...Oh Goddess, I feel sick..."

Evie grimaced. Now that she had mentioned it, Evie realized that they left a trail of crimson behind. Morgan was losing too much blood at this point.

"Oi..." Morgan muttered grimly. "They're here."

"What!?" Evie shrieked, whipping her head around wildly. She couldn't see them. What was Morgan talking about? Could Fomors turn invisible? How big were they? They must have been fairly big if they were able to injure Morgan.

A high-pitched scream- was it a scream?- startled Evie and she nearly dropped Morgan. Over her shoulder, a tall, lankly skeleton-like monster towered above them, a thin blade substituting where its right arm would be.

"Evie, run!" Morgan yelled furiously.

But Evie couldn't run. Even when the blade was so close to hitting them, Evie couldn't do anything. It was that moment when Morgan used her upper body muscles to break free from the girl and shove her away from the blade. Instead, the blade pierced the woman's hand in the process and the withdrawal of the blade drew enough excess blood to paint the walls.

Evie had never been in a situation such as this, and though it was the first time danger was eminent, she never did scream or run away. It happened by chance that Evie spotted Morgan's staff behind the woman and the Fomor. After Morgan's shove, Evie dashed forward and under the sweeping arms of the Fomor and grabbed it, turning to face the Fomor.

It didn't occur to Evie at the moment that she could have accidentally hit Morgan. Instinct took over, or perhaps it was fear, and Evie, channeling her raw magic powers through the staff, did exactly what she had been learning to do for the past few months. Small bolts of green magic arrows, as Evie liked to call them, collided into the vampire, attracting its attention.

She shot a volley of them, although the strain of producing several bolts in a short amount of time was nearly too great for her, and she found the pace of the attacks slowing down. She backed up, ceasing her attack in order to build up energy. The Fomor had recovered and started running.

If Evie didn't shoot any more magic arrows, she'd be dead. And so she did, over and over again. She didn't care if she felt tired or weak. Sure, she felt exhausted to the point she wanted to collapse and give up but for some reason, she didn't. She couldn't.

Though her energy was completely sapped away and her bolts became smaller and smaller, she didn't stop. She wasn't even sure if she had killed the Fomor; she didn't dare rest to find out, for she feared that if she did, she'd never find the motivation to start again.

The green flashes eventually stopped altogether, however. Fortunately for Evie, the Fomor had been long gone, black and charred in flames upon its death. Evie's knees buckled and Morgan's staff slipped from her hands. It was hard to breathe; it was hard to see and think. There were other figures around her, and for a second she feared they were the other Fomors Morgan mentioned.

What puzzled her was why there were flashes of green and white in the distance. Although the rain had came down in a thick curtain of water and the dark sky gave no assistance in lighting, she could still see something at the end of the alley. They looked like her magic arrows, only they were bigger and stronger. There were several shooting out at the same time, making the tall black figures disappear.

"Thomas..." Evie murmured at the sight of her teacher. Her mind gave into the darkness and fatigue. She had done her part; she had successfully protected Morgan from further injuries. She had successfully held off the Fomor until back-up arrived. This was enough.

It was because of her that Morgan didn't die. Evie was beyond relieved when she found out that Morgan survived the attack. She was also relieved that her teacher, Thomas, showed up when he did, all thanks to Violet who was asked by Evie's parents about her possible whereabouts. Violet had ran into Thomas on the streets moments before the rain fell and, after hearing the infamous screams of the vampires, they located Evie and Morgan.

Evie's parents then found it admirable of their daughter that she was able to stand her own ground for quite some time against a Fomor. Fomors were known to kill many adults. "I have heard a gnoll killed a man and his wife in the northwest. How lucky their son was to survive," Evie's mother said one day when they visited their daughter during her recovery.

"I also heard that a town in the south burned due to the gnolls," Thomas said gravely. "The main town guardsman died protecting his family but the wife was crushed by burning rubble."

The people in Evie's room grimaced and shook their head in disbelief.

"Their daughter lived, however," Thomas added. He chuckled and said, "Funny how the children survive."

"And how long ago was this? I haven't heard of this," Evie's research magic tutor said.

"Three years ago, actually," Thomas replied. "There are several other stories of Fomors attacking too. Somehow, they've gotten more active lately. Care to hear about what happened in the north?"

The adults continued their conversation until Morgan mentioned about a mercenary fighting somewhat alongside with the Royal Army in the war with the Fomors. This intrigued Evie when she heard that the mercenary had taken up two children a few years ago and they were doing exceptionally well.

"Mother? Father?" Evie interrupted suddenly and her parents both turned to her with an eyebrow raised.

And she made a request that changed her life. If she hadn't, she didn't know where her life would have led. But she did, and to her surprise, they gave her their blessings and sent her off to join the Crimson Blades.

On her own boat.

She would miss them and her friends like Violet. She'd miss Thomas and her research tutor, who was trying not to cry on Evie's departure. Evie was supposed to board the boat at noon but going through all the last farewells and hugs and cries, she didn't set sail until two. Despite the two-hour delay, Evie was glad she was able to spend the last few hours with those she loved.

She was eager to see what the Crimson Blades were made out of. There must be several magicians there, and she could possibly learn even more from them. She regretted not having enough time to grow under Thomas. Because of him, she was able to live. Without him, where would she be? Traveling in the sea, under the gorgeous blue sky and bathing in the warmth of the sun, Evie breathed in the smell of the ocean and listened to the waves caressing the hull of the boat.

What she didn't expect was a series of sudden shouts and an abrupt halt. Wood split and fell apart and Evie gasped, leaping forward to grab onto an already split piece of wood.

As she fell into the water, she caught a glimpse of several adults in armor scramble on their own boat. Several fish slid on the deck and back into the water and the adults cried out in frustration.

Before she hit the water, Evie noticed there were two young teenagers, a boy and a girl, on board the adults' boat, barely above the age of twelve. A shady-looking man beside them started to point them towards the bow that was still afloat but the deck beneath them cracked and the three slipped into the water.

Evie submerged into the ocean but the wood piece she held onto sent her back up to the surface. The cold air hit her face and she shuddered. However, she looked around for the boy and the girl in bewilderment. Did she make it? Were these the Crimson Blades? Were they fishing? Did she just run into their boat and capsized them all?

Bubbles rose and popped beside her rapidly and then a head popped out, gasping for air. Evie was entranced at the girl's sudden appearance. Wasn't she several feet away just now?

A second head popped out but for some reason, the girl had a flash of panic on her face and it seemed as if she had sunken a little. The boy then emerged from the water, gasping and thrashing as he tried to hold onto the girl.

"Fiona!" the boy gasped. "Help me! I can't swim!"

"You can't?!" the girl, Fiona, gasped. She squeezed her eyes shut as she went back under the water and the boy yelped in panic.

"Fiona! Fiona! Don't drown on me!" he shouted.

Fiona's head popped back up and she sputtered, "Then don't pull me down, Lann!"

"But I can't swim!"

Evie couldn't help but laugh. This caught their attention and Fiona seemed like she wanted to say something but when Evie scooted over from her wooden piece, Fiona stopped herself and assumed that Evie was allowing them to float with her.

"Here, Lann," Fiona sighed, paddling towards Evie.

Lann reached out and grabbed onto the piece. Evie was surprised that the wood sunk drastically, but then she figured that the armor they had on weighed them down severely. She then wondered how strong the girl was if she was able to stay afloat with Lann hanging on her.

"Oh thank Goddess," Lann breathed, shaking his head. Sea water flew from his dark locks and the girls turned away to avoid getting hit. "I knew it...Gallagher was right. We _would_ get knocked over."

"I thought he said we'd get knocked over if a duel goes wrong," Fiona coughed, readjusting herself on the wood. She then leaned forward to look past an exhausted Lann. "If you don't mind me asking," she said, "who are you?"

Evie grinned. "My name is Evie. I'm a magician, both in research and battle. I was hoping to join the Crimson Blades."

Lann and Fiona exchanged looks. "A magician?" Lann asked in a soft voice.

Fiona cocked her head. "Gallagher says that magicians can be crucial to a team," she said slowly.

Evie wasn't sure who Gallagher was, but she started and cowered behind Lann when the shady man floated towards them with an irritated expression on his face. Lann noticed Gallagher first since he was facing in Gallagher's general direction but Fiona, unfortunately, never saw it coming.

The man was hanging onto one of the barrels when he approached them. He reached out towards Lann and Fiona and with a single hand, grabbed Fiona's collar and then Lann's collar and pulled them straight up, even with the heavy armor and all.

Evie knew it was impolite to gape, but she couldn't help but stare in awe at the man's strength. Lann and Fiona wriggled and flopped around like fish, avoiding the man's gaze.

"What are you two hanging around for?" the man scowled. "We lost the fish that were alive but we can still get the dead ones!"

From the cringe from Lann and Fiona, Evie guessed that they probably weren't in the mood to go hunt down the dead fish floating around beneath them. In fact, Evie was sure that one of the dead fish brushed by her because she felt something slimy bump into her leg and she squealed, kicking.

The man glanced down at her and scowled, "So _you're_ the one who ran us over, huh? That your boat, little missy? Where are your parents at? We need to talk."

Evie shook her head. "My parents aren't here," she explained. "Only a few crewmen who were to escort me here..."

"Escort you here? What for?"

Lann reached out to tap the man's shoulder. "Gallagher," he said, "this is Evie. She's a magician and she wants to join."

"A magician?" Gallagher looked from Lann to Evie, going back and forth in disbelief. Evie took that time to smile and wave.

"We can let her join, right?" Fiona asked, still squirming around under the uncomfortable hold. "We have a new captain so maybe he'll be more lenient-" Fiona choked on her words and coughed. She and Lann were both tugging at their collars, although Lann had stopped after realizing that he didn't mind hanging in the air; as long as he wasn't drowning, he was fine.

Gallagher considered this idea, ignoring the shouts for assistance in the background. "Captain Aodhan's a better captain than the other one," Lann added weakly. Last time, the old captain had gave a harsh punishment to Gallagher in exchange for raising Fiona. Fiona had felt horrible about it for the next few weeks but Gallagher laughed it off and mentioned that it wasn't anything at all.

"Captain Aodhan will surely let Evie join us," Fiona declared.

"Shut up," Gallagher scowled at them, shaking them up and down to silence them. This only made them pale and they soon started clapping a hand over their mouths.

As if a sudden realization hit him, Gallagher glanced at the remains of Evie's boat. "Why do you need to be escorted? What, you rich or something?"

"You can say that."

Gallagher snapped his attention to Evie. "What?"

"I said, you can can say that. I suppose I am..."

There was no need for further persuasion. Gallagher, however, demanded that Evie would pay for their loss of merchandise, to which she agreed despite Lann and Fiona's warning. Fish was no problem. Evie was able to pay the mercenaries back and still have an impressive amount of money leftover.

It was dawn when they all made it back to the shores of Colhen. Several mercenaries saw them swimming and drifting towards them and sent out small boats to pick them up. The two mercenaries that picked up Gallagher and his 'disciples' were surprised to find another child.

"Let's just say I have a thing with kids," Gallagher smirked as he climbed up into the boat.

It took a few minutes to convince Lann to let go of the wood. When Evie pried his fingers off, he ended up reattaching himself to Fiona and nearly drowned the two of them. Gallagher exchanged a weary look with Evie and reached into the water, grabbing Fiona's collar and lifting the two out once again.

Evie knew that the lifestyles they led were different from what she was used to. She knew she had to learn how to adjust, but she found that Lann, Fiona, and Gallagher were an amusing bunch of people, and she was happy to call them her friends.

Though they were ahead of her in experience, she would have to work hard to catch up. No matter though. She would certainly catch up. She wasn't the first person to be able to proficiently study research and practice battle magic at the same time for nothing, after all.


End file.
